


On the Death of a Friend

by JegElskerDigJo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Death, Funeral, Immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JegElskerDigJo/pseuds/JegElskerDigJo
Summary: America and Finland attend a funeral.
Relationships: America & Finland (Hetalia)
Kudos: 13





	On the Death of a Friend

“On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend's life also, in our own, to the world.” —Henry David Thoreau, Author

-

The tie was one he reserved only for these occasions. Indeed, as morbid as it sounded, America had a “funeral tie.” It was this navy blue tie he ran his fingers along, fiddled with, and tugged at as he took in the sights of the church around him. Sitting still was always hard.

The church was old, but the paneling, speakers, light fixtures, these were new. Bright and shiny and hiding all the funerals the church had seen long ago and would continue to see after this one.

He was lucky when he was actually able to attend funerals. Often, there was simply too much business to attend to, or the figure was too famous, and those attending the funeral were scrutinized, or he was out of the city, state, country.

But he could be here this time, for a friend.

Finland shifted uncomfortably next to him in the pew. “I usually don’t come to this sort of thing. I feel as if I’m invading something.”

“I know. I appreciate you coming. And I know he didn’t know you, but you knew him.”

“Of course. It’s . . . right, I think, for me to pay respects.” The Finn managed a polite smile, but quickly wiped it off his face (seemingly remembering he was at a funeral).

“I think some of the service will be in Finnish, actually.” America was fond of this area of his country--the Finnish immigrants had maintained their culture and language to some degree. One of America’s greatest prides was seeing immigrant cultures thrive.

“That’s nice. This church is really pretty.”

“Mhm. No stained glass windows, though. I think those are more common in Catholic churches.”

Finland nodded. “You’re probably right. Protestant denominations don’t usually like the, uh . . .” He looked to America. “Images, I guess.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” America sighed, and noticed the long line of people still waiting to give their condolences to the family situated at the front of the church. This was the curse of being early for once. “Thanks again for flying out for the funeral, Fin.”

“Ah, it’s no problem. I’m glad you invited me. He was a good man.”

Oh, America had a number of stories about the fellow, though most of them weren’t the kind he could share with such a large group of people. Well, he could, but then he’d have to kill them.

“To be honest,” said Finland, cutting off America’s recollections of cracking codes and filling out paperwork with the friend they were here to remember, “I don’t think I could handle going to so many funerals, the way you do.”

America raised an eyebrow. Did he really go to so many? This was the only memorial he’d been able to make for a few months now.

“Sometimes it’s only a few people that attend,” said America.

Finland stared at him expectantly, tilting his head a little. “It’s important to you, right?”

“I owe it to them to celebrate their life if nobody else will. These people I meet do more for me and the world in their lifetimes than I’ve done in my five hundred damn years.” America dropped his tie and ran a hand through his gelled hair. “I should be the one my people rely on. I should know by now how to take care of them.”

“I understand it,” agreed Finland weakly. “I’ve been doing this for a thousand years, give or take, and it feels like I’ve wasted it all sometimes.”

“You know, I’m starting to understand why the humans were always able to outsmart and outdo the gods in mythological stories. They’re so much better at time management.” America placed his hands on his knees and turned to look Finland in the eye. “Haven’t you wondered if you would have been one of the greats? If people could have known you, if you knew you had to do it now and do it right, do you think you could have ruled the world if you were mortal?”

Finland seemed taken aback by the question, raising an eyebrow and looking at the church floor. “I . . .” He bit his lip before releasing it and sighing. “I wonder about it sometimes.”

“Is it wrong to be jealous of a man whose funeral I’m at?” America pushed up his glasses.

The facades that kept the church looking new began to crumble in America’s eyes. The church had been built long ago and had witnessed life and death and victory and loss and hadn’t done jack shit about it. It was merely a home to life. He was merely a home to life.

“America, I don’t know what to say.” Finland sighed. “I guess we just have to try again tomorrow. But that seems like it hasn’t worked for the past while.”

“Because we have too many tomorrows.”

“Yes,” agreed the Finn. “Because we have too many tomorrows.”

A resolution called America’s heart to vow its occurrence. This was one he could not ignore.

“I’m going to do better tomorrow, Fin.”

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> America is my favorite character because of the complexities he'd struggle to solve within himself. Brilliant but distractible and hyper, traumatized but young, loving but unloved. Alone but extroverted. I hope I can give him more depth when I write him in the future


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